do you want to make 60 bucks?
by blinks
Summary: A mere make out session for 60? How could Kyle and Eric refuse?


"Dude, it's about sixty bucks each!" Kenny announces as he whirls two large sums of money around in each hand, he waves them expectantly at Kyle and Cartman who are looking at each other doubtfully, both not fully knowing the correct way to respond to their sudden popularity. "It's not even about how you feel about anymore, I mean, it's fucking sixty bucks!"

"Oh, come on!" Someone yells from the crowd, "You two assholes just need to make out and let off some steam!" He continues. Someone agrees and someone seconds it.

Both Kyle and Cartman are stuck – neither sure on how to go about with the sudden situation at hand. They had been dared to make out and soon enough people were donating money to ensure that the _money grabbing Jew_ and the _greedy Fatass_ had no way to decline. Kyle's face is flustered and his fists tremble at his sides, the rest of his body is quaking with it. Cartman too, looks red in the face, refusing to meet Kyle's eyes and making excessive, snide comments whenever possible.

"Look, Kyle – you don't have to do this, but just think of the game console you've been saving for. With that money you could buy a second game too." Stan concludes to Kyle's side. "And I mean, the sexual tension between you is going to be the death of me." He mutters next, the chants from the crowd almost deafening his last comment.

"Fine," Kyle almost growls, receiving a tremendous cheer from the crowd. He turns to Cartman, looking at him almost for permission and Cartman's devilish smirk is all he needs.

"What are the rules?" Cartman asks, seemingly regaining his composure. Taunting Kyle with the upward twerk of his lips and the mischievous and impertinent glint in his eyes. The mob of teenagers closing in on them, stumbling over each other to see the two rivals make out in Stan's back garden, it's not like the throng of kids didn't do stuff like this often, but the chance to witness the two lifetime opponents make out was something that spurred them on.

"Rules?" Kenny mimics, trying to place and define exactly what rules the two would be playing by, he hums, brushing his chin with the back of his hand before he speaks again; "You must make out for at least 10 minut-"

"Five." Kyle interrupts, his glare flickering between Kenny and Cartman. Neither have the balls to argue with him.

"Fine. Five minutes. You must really be getting into it – tongues and everything." He turns pointedly at Kyle, "and you." He jabs his fingers gripping around the wad of cash at Kyle, "you gotta moan," he gears, his body rolling with his words as he exaggerates them, he turns quickly to Cartman to avoid Kyle's undoubtable denial to do so. "Touch him," he jerks his thumb at Kyle, "everywhere – especially the butt!" He winks.

He lifts his hands and swings them towards each other, "go for it." He says cheekily, watching the two fumble towards each other hesitantly. Their lips join after a moment and after softly pecking at each other's lips, they begin to deepen the kiss, Cartman wrapping his arms around the Jewish boy's neck and grabbing at his hair, Kyle doing the same. In a matter of moments, their tongues are dancing around each other, and much like Kenny's rules (and pleasure); Kyle lets of some soft murmuring moans out into Cartman's mouth, who ravenously laps them up and returns with the movement of his arms, pressing against Kyle and _feeling_ him. Their movements are slightly rushed and drastic as they grip and groan against each other, Cartman's hands have slipped up the back of Kyle's shirt and it becomes seemingly obvious that they were beginning to forget their surroundings, so caught up in each other to remember they are outside. _In public_.

Soon, they both slide onto floor, Cartman's hands still tucked up in Kyle's shirts and Kyle's frantically trying to unbutton Cartman's. They barely had a minute left and they are still relentlessly and ruthlessly going at it. The beeper sounds but neither member of the party separate, the chime of the alarm going unheard to them.

"Guys." Stan tries to cut in, receiving little response, just a soft grunt from Kyle and an equally disturbing one from Cartman. "Dude!" He tries again, brasher this time. The pair rip apart, breathing intensely and still clinging together. Their eyebrows are creased and their angry, panting breaths are enough of an indicator that they know they've gone too far. Kenny whoops from behind Stan and the rest of the crowd does so too. They split apart hurriedly, patting themselves down animatedly and flinching at the pure scale of the crowd's cheering. Cartman stalks off before the money could be handed to him and Kyle groans theatrically.

"I need a drink," he admits, "now." He snatches at the red tumbler cup given to him by Butters and chugs at it appreciatively. His cheeks burn and he had never felt more embarrassed and humiliated in his life. He want to forget that it had ever happened, that he had actually found himself enjoying kissing Cartman. He wants to pretend that his vibrant glowing cheeks is from the alcohol and his wildly thumping heart is from the energy of the party. He wants to try and fool himself that he did not fall for Cartman's large, paw-like hands that groped and caressed him, or the tasselled brunet locks that he was able to run his fingers through so effectivity. He wouldn't admit that he likes their drastic size difference, he felt so small and delicate between Eric's legs and the exposure and liability to give himself to his enemy caused his insides to quake with a hidden feeling of lust and desire. It causes tremors and quivers to edge up his spine, tingling in both his head and nether regions.

He doesn't know what was in the cup, and probably wouldn't have drunk it if wasn't Butters who had been the one to hand it to him. He slurps it like water and soon it has all vanished, the harsh, rich alcohol mixing with his previous feelings and his knees quaver, he receives a refill which he downs as quickly as the first. He notices Kenny and Cartman talking and Kenny hands Cartman the money with an encouraging pat on the pack that makes Kyle's stomach shift uncomfortably. "I'm heading to the kitchen to get some more." He announces to Stan, he holds up his tumbler cup to indicate what he's refilling. Stan nods, giving him a soft, concerned look before Kyle stalks off into the kitchen, wanting to keep tabs on Cartman's whereabouts.

Although most of the party of people are outside, there is a small string of people hovering around, some refilling drinks and other talking. He doesn't really recognise anyone so he turns towards Stan's dwindling collection of spirits, he mixes a few together that have funny names, throwing things into his cup like: Entire Butt Porter; Bishop's Finger; Unicum; Virgin –and his personal favourite that he had managed to stumble upon; Sheepshagger. He knew that these things alone wouldn't be that strong, but he hoped together that they would give him his desired buzz. He spills a bit of vodka into his cup to ensure that he really does get smashed.

He sips at the cup, enduring the vinegary taste before turning to try and exit the kitchen, he notices Cartman outside by the porch and Kyle isn't sure if he should go and talk to him or not. He wonders if Cartman is feeling the same as him and perhaps if he wants to- "Hey." A voice cuts through.

Kyle jerks before giving a measly smile in response.

Before him stands an overgrown, lanky boy who adores a North Park football jersey. He has crooked teeth that protrude from his mouth, reminding Kyle of a horse. He has a mop of floppy curly hair, which is a light brown colour, one hand holds a beer can and the other is tucked tightly in his jersey pocket. He wears slightly tight jeans and sport shoes, all over he is quite ugly, but other than his strained, scratchy voice and horse teeth, Kyle doesn't think that he is _that_ bad.

"You're the kid that was making out with that fat guy." He states instead of questions, and Kyle has to raise an eyebrow to stop himself from responding sarcastically. "You're hot." He states again, and Kyle blushes, but he doesn't feel flattered or happy to be complimented by this stranger, instead he feels unnerved, he gives a curt smile and a sweet thank you, trying to push past the stranger.

"Wait," he says, latching a sweaty hand onto Kyle's wrist, "it takes a lot for a boy to hit on _another boy_ ," he declares, drastically, pulling Kyle into himself. He doesn't notice Kyle spilling his drink over his hand, only his knitted eyebrows and angry cursing. "Don't give me the cold shoulder, baby," he coos into Kyle's ear, his large, overhanging teeth making contact with Kyle's skin. No one has noticed the commotion going on in the kitchen and even when the football player gently removes the drink from his hand, and places it against the counter he's pressing Kyle to, no one bats an eyelash.

"Get off of me, asshole!" Kyle growls, pointing a finger at his opponent, his back is bending and the other's body is pressed flush against him. The taller only smirks, running a hand over Kyle's junk. Watching the contours of Kyle's face change briefly. He raises his eyebrow in a challenge and Kyle shakes in anger, he pushes against the other, punching him in the stomach as he does.

"Don't be like that, baby." The football player wheezes, reaching out and gripping Kyle's wrists, they wrestle until Kyle's wrists are firmly secured by the other. The stranger chuckles and smirks down on Kyle. "Baby, you can call me whatever you want, because you know by the end of tonight I'll be your God."

"Listen, Horse Face." Kyle snarls, "You hitting on me because your daddy's not giving you any tonight? Has he finally got tired of your nasty breath and goddamn ugly, unfuckable face?" Kyle asks outraged. "Because I sure as hell ain't feeling flattered by you trying to come here and fucking molest me, you filthy, gross looking swine. So get the fuck off of me right now or I swear to God, I'll hospitalize you." The other looks like wants to punch him, but instead the grip on his wrists becomes unbearably tight that Kyle moans uncomfortably, in Kyle's discomfort, his hands are rearranged in one of the other's fist, he rears his hand back, fully intent on beating the ginger. However, a deep chucking laughter stops him.

Cartman is chuckling, leaning across the counter opposite them, he looks fully amused and he seems to be making no effort to stop the North Park kid. "Cartman!" Kyle gasps in surprise, unsure on what to follow his greeting with, but he's generally surprised to see him. Quite happy too. The North Park kid's muscles quiver and Kyle can feel it from the position he's now in. The two stare at each other for a long moment, before Cartman tares his gaze away and looks at Kyle, he wiggles his eyebrow slightly and Kyle watches mesmerised as he stands straight, no longer leaning against the countertop.

"How eloquent, Jew." He chuckles, his eyes locking with the Footballer, "Seriously though, _this_ little Jewish Firecracker can do some damage, don't undermine him." He states. Tipping his cup toward Kyle, who can feel Horse Face's body ripple with laughter. Somehow, it sends Kyle into a livid, mad frenzy, he pulls at the North Parker's arm, causing him to fall downwards onto Kyle's upward lifted knee. The kid wheezes and chokes as he falls to the ground. Still outraged Kyle aims a kick at the other, the impact of the kick and the luscious amount of alcohol that he's consumed cause him to fall backwards. He expects to falls to the ground, but when he doesn't hit the floor but a soft bundle of arms and fabric, Kyle knows immediately that Cartman has caught him.

Cartman is laughing again. He grabs Kyle's drink and Kyle grabs him. They stumble past the defeated North Parker and out the front door, the sudden coldness not effecting them as much as it should. They notice a sixth grader on Police duty and Kyle offers to take over, watching as the kid runs off into the party excitedly.

They situated themselves on Stan's front step and stare out onto the street, neither say anything for a while, just enjoying the base from the music from behind the close door, Kyle places the walky-talky between him and Cartman and takes a sip of his drink, not expecting the sour, bitter taste.

"What the fuck is in that?" Cartman finally asks, looking at Kyle from the corner of his eye, "it smells like ass."

"It tastes like ass as well." Kyle states, giving the contents a swirl. "Want some?" he offers, and to his surprise Cartman retrieves the cup from Kyle's grasp, their fingers brushing slighting in the transfer, Kyle tries to ignore the flutter of nerves that rack through him like a flock of birds, instead he watches Cartman take a deep gulp, and Kyle has to prize the cup from his fingers to stop him from taking any more.

"You're right," Cartman agrees, wiping his mouth messily with the back of his sleeve, sighing through wet lips. Kyle stares at him, trying not to make it obvious.

A moment of silence breezes by; "We kissed." Kyle suddenly mentions.

"Ah yes, what great perspective skills you've got there, Mr Broflovski." Cartman responds sarcastically. Rolling his eyes and hiding the tint on his cheek. Kyle shoves him, the drink sloshing around in the ruckus.

"Not like that, you asshole!" He sneers jokingly. He pauses, "I liked it." Another pause, "a lot."

"…Me too." There is this sudden vulnerability in Cartman's voice that Kyle latches onto, he loves the tremor in Eric's tone, it's so defined and unmistakeable – Cartman's embarrassed – he doesn't mind it though, it reminds him that Cartman is human too. It makes him happy, almost.

Somehow they've managed to face each other, their knees press against each other and the smoke from their breath mingling and diminishing. Kyle isn't sure when they begin kissing again but he makes a surprised a noise in his mouth when he realises, he tugs Cartman closer to him, enjoying the way their bodies rock and sway, he finds the way Cartman's tongue moves to be enchanting and pleasurable. He loves the way Cartman's hands roam his skin and he loves Cartman's sudden demeanour. "Oh, _God_." Kyle moans, "Cartman, yes." He breathes and Cartman groans back, pressing himself to Kyle's neck and roughly torturing the skin there.

"Who's closer?" Cartman asks, knowing that even if its Kyle's house is, they'd still probably end up at his. He doesn't mind, he just wants to hear Kyle say it, the idea made his insides fluster.

"Yours." Kyle breathes, they pull away completely, starring at each other whilst they pant.

"Did you get your sixty bucks?" Cartman taunts, a voice that sends shivers straight down to Kyle's cock.

"Fuck," he breathes, placing the red tumbler cup to his lips and necking the remaining liquid, before throwing it to his side. He stands, "you," he points at Cartman, "you stay right here."

.

So I've basically had this sitting in my drafts for fuck knows how long, I thought I'd post it now that school's over. I'm so glad, now I can finally refocus on writing. I'm going to try and update _The Colour of my Bruises Are..._ as soon as I am, but I got so unmotivated after I got loads of annoying reviews. But I really want to finish the story and I have no school commitments now, so hopefully I should be able to do so. Please review this, and check out my other story! xoxox


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